Today we woke up in Dallas, Texas. Our host, Linda Ball, insisted we sleep in her bed so as not to be disturbed when her son and his girlfriend came in late. She said that she needed to decompress from the day and hang with her dogs Starlight and Willy in the family room.
Willy is so named because he is willfull. He has Lyme's disease now but before he got sick he would sit in Linda's healing room with her when she had a client. After Willy recovered from a run in with a car he simply would not let Linda take a client without his attendance in the room. He was especially good with men, Linda said, and could bring a grown man to tears.
Indiana to Nashville, Memphis to Little Rock, Dallas. I am struck with the generosity of spirit that is unbridled all around. Through the help of 129 people a project I believe in has what it needs. Through the kindness of our two hosts we had warm places to sleep and good stories to hear where we knew not a soul.
This state of gratitude exists right along side the fear that shoots down through when I turn at Loretta Lynne's Kitchen in Tennessee to see the wall of Confederate flags and plaques, "We Don't Call 911" Last night on the street in Texas I wondered if it was naive to take Jenny's hand. Then I felt cowardly for wondering.
What will our journey be? How will we represent it? How will we make something worthy of all the love poured into it? Above all is a feeling of responsibility that suspends me between these two things: the fear of the ground and the gratitude of the sky.